Northern Nigeria

By Muḥammad San

I have read the PhD thesis of the Emir of Kano, and just like in his Gamji days, Sanusi Lamido Sanusi (now Muhammadu Sanusi II) remains forthright in expression and uncompromising in his quest to balance Shari’a.

Some may dismiss contributions like mine as disturbing or argue that we are too little academically to weigh in on the Shari’a debate. But this is a debate that dominated Nigeria at the turn of the millennium, and Sanusi himself was at its centre. Having read his papers, watched his TED talk, and reviewed the recent compendium of his essays, I can say I have at least a fair understanding of his intellectual outlook.

Sanusi has always been controversial. His now-famous remark that a wife should slap back or retaliate against an abusive husband is a good example. That boldness, perhaps, was the same energy that pushed him to the University of London to produce a doctoral thesis on Islamic family law, using Morocco and Kano as his comparative space.

The Emir is an ardent advocate of girl-child education, but this passion seems to have narrowed his focus, leaving him blind to the ordeals of men under the same system. While women’s marginalisation has been widely documented, men, too, are now facing a new wave of vulnerabilities. The cases are there for anyone who cares to look.

The infamous Maryam Sanda case, in which a woman brutally murdered her husband, remains etched in public memory, yet the debate around it was clouded by sympathy. In 2021, a young wife in Kano was convicted of poisoning her husband after repeated disputes. In 2022, another woman fatally stabbed her husband during a quarrel over financial neglect. These are not isolated events. They highlight the rise of what can be called “feminine defence,” but they also expose the growing fragility of men trapped in broken family systems.

Sanusi himself points to Morocco as a model. “What did they do in Morocco? They built schools and invested in transportation so that girls could be moved from villages to the nearest schools. They also invested in school feeding and provided financial support to the poorest families ready to send their sons and daughters to schools,” he said in an interview with Time Africa Magazine. Yet the contrast is sharp. In Kano, the state government spends millions on lavish emirate ceremonies, while journalists like Dan Bello continue to expose the dire state of public schools in the very heart of the metropolis.

To be fair, Sanusi’s thesis tackled the historical marginalisation of women in Islamic family law with rigour and depth. But in amplifying women’s rights, it failed to defend men or acknowledge their growing vulnerabilities in a rapidly changing society. By leaning heavily on the Moroccan Moudawana, itself a product of feminist activism, the work framed men only as a dominant class to be restrained. Missing were the struggles many men face: unemployment, the crushing demands of polygamy, and the relentless pressure to perform as patriarchs without resources.

This omission is striking. In Kano today, the rise of wives killing their husbands is not just a crime. It is a signal of imbalance in the family system, a warning that reform is incomplete. Without addressing male fragility alongside female empowerment, Shari’a reform risks becoming a zero-sum game. Sanusi’s thesis suggests that empowering women alone can resolve family crises. But true reform, as Shari’a itself demands, must be a balanced restructuring that preserves the dignity and well-being of both men and women.

Muḥammad Sani is a freelance and public policy writer from Zaria. Can be reached via muhdusman1999@gmail.com.

By Uzair Adam

Malam Aminu Kano International Airport (MAKIA) on Thursday marked a century since the first aircraft landed in Nigeria, highlighting Kano’s pivotal role in the country’s aviation history.

The three-day celebration, organised by the Caliphate Aviation Training Centre, kicked off with exhibitions, panel discussions, and an airshow designed to inspire the next generation of aviators.

Okikiri Musa, Regional and Airport Manager of MAKIA, described the centenary as a proud moment for both Kano and the nation.

“This milestone is significant for all of us, especially Kano,” Musa said. “Being the site of Nigeria’s first aircraft landing is something to celebrate. 

“Aviation has grown immensely, and Kano continues to be a key hub in air transport. We pray that Allah continues to bless Kano and strengthen Nigeria’s aviation sector.”

Hassan Abdulhamid, Director of Administration at Caliphate Air Services, noted that the event not only commemorates history but also encourages young Nigerians to explore careers in the aviation industry.

Celebrating 100 years since the first aircraft landed in Nigeria, here in Kano, gives students hands-on experience in aviation — from ticketing and boarding to meeting pilots and engineers. We hope this inspires a lifelong passion and guides them toward aviation careers,” Abdulhamid said.

He explained that the first two days of the event are focused on secondary school students, while university students and lecturers will later present research to address data gaps in the aviation sector.

“There is limited data on aviation in this region. By involving universities in research, we aim to generate insights that will benefit the industry,” he added.

Transport historian Dr Yusuf Madugu of Bayero University, Kano (BUK), recalled that the first aircraft to land in Nigeria touched down in Kano on November 1, 1925.

“The flight, led by Lieutenant Arthur Cunningham, came from Egypt via Khartoum and N’Djamena. It landed at the Kano Racecourse, now the Polo Club, as there was no airport at the time. Smoke from a fire was used to guide the pilot,” Dr Madugu explained.

He emphasised that Kano’s status as a commercial and religious hub made it the ideal destination for the historic flight.

“Kano was the commercial nerve centre of Northern Nigeria and Sub-Saharan Africa, which is why the colonial authorities chose it as the first point of air entry into the country,” he said.

The centenary celebration included a historical exhibition on aviation in Nigeria, discussions on the sector’s economic impact, and tributes to pioneers of the industry. 

Other highlights featured a static airshow, kiting competitions for children, and live aerial demonstrations.

Organisers said the event aims to renew public interest in aviation and reaffirm Kano’s role as the cradle of Nigeria’s air transport history.

By Muhammad Abubakar

Efforts to strengthen vaccine delivery systems across northern Nigeria received a major boost as the All Babies program, implemented by New Incentives – All Babies Are Equal (NI-ABAE), convened a two-day Roundtable Meeting of Cold Chain Stakeholders in Kano.

Held at Tahir Guest Palace from October 24 to 25, the meeting brought together 35 participants from state and zonal cold chain offices, development partners, and the Kano State Primary Health Care Board. The focus was on improving coordination, data management, and logistics in vaccine distribution across 14 northern states.

During the technical session, program officials presented encouraging results from the third quarter of 2025. Katsina and Zamfara states recorded the sharpest declines in zero-dose infants, each achieving a 40-percentage-point reduction, while Kaduna saw a 15-point drop. So far, All Babies has enrolled over 5.6 million infants, supported 7,128 clinics, and facilitated more than 85 million vaccinations through conditional cash transfers to caregivers.

Stakeholders at the meeting resolved to improve real-time vaccine data reporting through Nigeria’s OpenLMIS platform, enhance coordination between state and local levels, and push for increased transportation funding via the Association of Local Governments of Nigeria (ALGON) to ease vaccine movement to remote areas.

Niger State’s Cold Chain Officer, Abubakar Hussaini, praised the program’s impact, saying, “All Babies has done a great job increasing vaccination awareness and turnout. We hope the program expands nationwide so every child benefits from these life-saving vaccines.”

The roundtable ended with a joint communiqué reaffirming partners’ commitment to ensure that every child, regardless of location, receives timely and essential vaccines.

By Abdullahi Abubakar Lamido 

When Nigeria first introduced Islamic banking more than a decade ago, a section of the public, especially some Christian leaders, cried foul. They labelled it an attempt to Islamise the nation. The word Islamic became synonymous with suspicion. Yet, history has since given its verdict. The same Islamic banking and finance that was once denounced as a tool for religious expansion has now become one of the most credible components of Nigeria’s financial system. Today, the government of Nigeria, regardless of faith or political party, routinely issues Sukuk (Islamic bonds) to finance national infrastructure, build roads, and other developmental projects. 

If Islamic banking did not Islamise Nigeria, how on earth will the halal economy, a trade-based development initiative, suddenly do so?

Unfortunately, some commentators continue to see through the fog of prejudice rather than the lens of global economics. The recently developed Nigerian National Halal Economy Strategy is not a religious project. It is an economic vision. It seeks to position Nigeria within a rapidly expanding global market that respects ethics, transparency, environmental responsibility, and product integrity; values shared by all civilisations, not by Muslims alone.

Globally, the halal economy is estimated at USD 2.3 trillion, excluding Islamic finance. It is growing at an annual rate of around 20 per cent, making it one of the fastest-expanding consumer markets in the world, valued at about USD 560 billion each year. The halal industry, initially rooted in food and beverages, has long transcended its traditional boundaries. It now spans pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, health products, toiletries, medical devices, and even service sectors such as logistics, marketing, media, packaging, branding, and finance. With rising affluence and awareness among global consumers, it has further extended to halal tourism, hospitality, fashion, and lifestyle services.

This development is not driven by Muslims alone. Indeed, the modern halal market is non-exclusive. Increasingly, non-Muslim consumers associate halal with ethical consumerism, animal welfare, environmental stewardship, and quality assurance. The label “halal” has evolved into a global mark of trust, symbolising cleanliness, safety, and ethical production.

Countries far removed from Islam, such as the United States, the Netherlands, Russia, China, and South Africa, are already major players in the halal economy. In the United States, the halal market is worth USD 12 billion annually, with halal food sales growing by more than 70 per cent since 1995. Over 90 per cent of U.S. dry dairy ingredient manufacturers now produce halal products, primarily for export.

In the Netherlands, where Muslims are barely a tenth of the population, non-Muslim Dutch consumers spend approximately USD 3 billion annually on halal food. In the United Kingdom, six million people consume halal meat, three times the Muslim population. These figures prove one thing: halal has gone mainstream. Even Russia is experiencing explosive growth in its halal sector, with domestic demand rising by 30-40 per cent annually. The country now produces around 65,000 tonnes of halal meat each year and hosts major expos such as the Moscow Halal Expo and KazanHalal.

China, with its 23 million Muslims, records 10 per cent annual growth in its halal industry, with trade worth USD 2.1 billion and export products valued at USD 10 million annually from the Ningxia region alone.

Africa, too, is awakening to this opportunity. South Africa—with only two per cent of its population being Muslim—is now one of the five largest producers of halal products globally, thanks to a robust certification infrastructure. Kenya, with a fast-growing halal certification regime, already has more than 150 certified companies serving local and regional markets.

Nigeria, with its vast agricultural resources, strategic location, and large Muslim population, stands at the crossroads of opportunity. The halal economy offers three immediate advantages:

1. Export Expansion: By developing credible halal certification and production infrastructure, Nigeria can unlock access to markets worth over USD 2 trillion, exporting beef, poultry, processed foods, cosmetics, pharmaceuticals, and other halal-compliant goods. Nigerian products can enter Middle Eastern and Asian markets that strictly demand halal certification.

2. Job Creation and SME Growth: The halal economy stimulates employment across value chains—from farm to factory, logistics, certification, branding, and export marketing. It empowers micro and small enterprises while ensuring compliance with ethical standards that appeal to both local and international consumers.

3. National Image and Ethical Standards: Halal certification ensures higher hygiene, traceability, and environmental protection. It is compatible with international standards like ISO and HACCP, thereby enhancing Nigeria’s global competitiveness. In essence, promoting halal is promoting quality, sustainability, and integrity—values that no religion should reject.

The critics who fear the halal roadmap as a step toward Islamisation fail to recognise that halal is an economic term before it is a theological one in this context. It stands for what is wholesome, safe, clean, traceable, and socially responsible. These values are not confined to Islam. They are embedded in Christianity, Judaism, and secular ethics alike.

The halal economy represents a fusion of faith and fairness, ethics and enterprise. It provides a model for a more responsible economic system—precisely the kind of moral economy the world craves in the aftermath of global financial and environmental crises.

When the debate over Islamic banking first arose, the same fear-mongering dominated the headlines. Yet, today, Islamic finance has built roads, schools, and hospitals across Nigeria through Sukuk and other Shari’ah-compliant financing. Christian engineers, contractors, and civil servants have benefitted immensely. The country’s Christian-majority states have received as much as the Muslim ones. No mosque was built, no church destroyed, and no constitution rewritten.

If Islamic banking did not Islamise Nigeria, how will halal exports do so? On the contrary, the halal economy promises to diversify Nigeria’s trade, create jobs, enhance foreign exchange earnings, and promote industrial standards that protect all consumers, Muslims and non-Muslims alike.

Nigeria cannot afford to watch from the sidelines while other nations—Christian, secular, and atheist alike—harvest the fruits of the halal economy. The world is shifting toward ethical consumption, sustainability, and traceable production. The halal brand, far from being divisive, is a passport to global markets.

The Nigeria National Halal Economy Strategy is not about religion; it is about relevance. It is about integrating Nigeria into the trillion-dollar value chain that prizes quality, fairness, and responsibility. Those who see crisis where there is opportunity risk being on the wrong side of history, just as those who once opposed Islamic banking and finance, now benefit from Sukuk-financed roads.

The celebration of the halal economy is not the planting of tomorrow’s crisis; it is the harvest of tomorrow’s prosperity for every Nigerian, regardless of faith. It is time we remove the caps of emotion and prejudice and wear the lenses of reason, tolerance, and progress. Nigeria must embrace every opportunity that promises shared prosperity, job creation, and national development. The halal economy is not about division—it is about direction. It is about placing our nation on the map of global relevance, productivity, and ethical growth. So help us God. 

Amir Lamido wrote from Abuja via lamidomabudi@gmail.com.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

My essay, Against Shaykh Masussuka: A Qur’anic Case for the Reliability of Hadith, stirred more interest than I anticipated. While many readers agreed with my central thesis, a number of them raised a pointed concern: why did I not address what is often called the “Hadith problem”? By this, they meant those reports that, at first glance, appear to contradict the Qur’an, or else propose rulings not congruent with Islam’s basic principles. Some go further, suggesting that certain hadiths diminish the Prophet’s sanctity or undermine the very values the Qur’an upholds. Others, from the opposite direction, are said to elevate hadith to a position of near-supremacy over the Qur’an itself, much as common law sometimes treats judicial interpretation as weightier than the statute it interprets.

To my mind, the reason I did not write directly about this so-called “Hadith problem”, but instead focused on why we must agree primarily on the existence of hadith as a legitimate vehicle for obtaining the correct principles of the deen, is simple: the problem is not new. No community, secular or religious, has documented and curated its tradition more carefully, rationally, and continuously than Muslims have with hadith. As such, Muslim scholarship has wrestled with these questions beautifully and intellectually more than a millennium ago. Much of what trends today on social media is only an echo of debates settled centuries earlier. My earlier essay, The Eternal Quartet: Understanding the Hadith Debate in Northern Nigeria, already sketched how the primary Sunni schools, both juridical and theological, addressed questions of hadith authenticity and authority. The framework they produced is so robust that it continues to guide our practice today.

The Method, Not the Myth

When a hadith seems to contradict the Qur’an, the real issue is not substance but method. Classical scholars approached every report through layers of scrutiny. First came the isnād: if a report’s chain of transmission was weak or fabricated, the discussion ended there. Second was Qur’anic alignment: no solitary report could overturn what the Qur’an had decisively established. Third was the Prophet’s sanctity: any report that appeared to impugn his character was re-read against the sīrah and the Qur’an’s testimony to his moral standing. Fourth came the tools of uṣūl al-fiqh: harmonising general and particular, weighing abrogation only with proof, and applying great maxims such as no harm and no reciprocating harm. Finally, scholars asked about context: to whom did the Prophet speak, in what situation, with what effective cause?

Regarding the sanctity of the Prophet of Islam, a deeper interpretation even suggests that each authentic hadith that seems to cross the Prophet’s moral standing should be understood as teaching something different, excluding the Prophet himself, even if he appears as the reference point. For example, the authentic hadith that says the Prophet’s parents are in Hell should not be read as condemning them personally, but as teaching that whoever dies in disbelief faces that fate. Likewise, the hadith of Umm Haram is not to be taken as evidence of inappropriate closeness but as a lesson on boundaries with one’s mahrams.

This is why many supposed contradictions dissolve under discipline. A hadith regulating a temporary abuse does not become a timeless principle. A narration that seems to permit harm is reined in by the Prophet’s own maxim forbidding it. The method resolves what appears chaotic.

Qur’an First, Sunnah Beside

Another anxiety is the claim that the hadith has been placed above the Qur’an. But this is more perception than reality. The Qur’an is always first in rank. The Sunnah explains and operationalises it. The Qur’an itself gives the Prophet that mandate: “We revealed to you the Reminder so that you may explain to people what was sent down to them” (16:44). It calls him “an excellent example” (33:21), insists that “whoever obeys the Messenger has obeyed Allah” (4:80), and commands: “Whatever the Messenger gives you, take it; whatever he forbids you, abstain” (59:7). These verses do not set up rivalry between Qur’an and Sunnah but complementarity. To say the Sunnah explains the Qur’an is no more than to rank it higher than to say a manual outranks the constitution. Both are necessary, each in its domain.

The Eternal Quartet

Why, then, do sincere scholars differ? Because difference is built into the system. Sunni Islam produced four major theological orientations — Muʿtazilī, Ashʿarī, Māturīdī, and Atharī — and paired them with four juridical schools — Ḥanafī, Mālikī, Shāfiʿī, and Ḥanbalī. This “eternal quartet” explains why equally devout scholars may reach different conclusions about solitary reports, analogy, or custom. Some demand mutawātir reports for theology, others accept sound solitary ones. Some lean on the practice of Madina, others on text alone. Yet all remain within the same qibla.

This plurality is not a weakness but a civilisational strength. No other intellectual tradition has institutionalised difference in this way while maintaining unity. Where others splintered, Islam built a square strong enough to hold its four corners together.

Empires on the Quartet

These paradigms sustained real societies. The early ʿAbbāsid caliphate ran on a Ḥanafī–Muʿtazilī synthesis during the miḥna era. The Seljuks, Timurids, Mughals, and Ottomans all thrived on Ḥanafī–Māturīdī orthodoxy, the Ottomans for nearly seven centuries. Across the Maghrib and the Sahel, Mālikī fiqh and Ashʿarī creed underpinned the Almoravids, the Marīnids, the Songhay under Askia Muhammad, and the Sokoto Caliphate. The Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī pairing defined the Ayyūbids and Mamlūks in Egypt, spread to Yemen and the Horn of Africa, and later carried Islam to Aceh and Malacca. Meanwhile, Atharī–Ḥanbalī frameworks underpinned the First and Second Saudi states and continue to inform the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia today.

No other religious-intellectual system has produced such enduring political architectures across continents and centuries.

Survival Through Shock

Even more impressive is how these paradigms survived colonial disruption. Islamic institutions such as awqāf, market regulation, and family law provided continuity, enabling Muslim societies to withstand conquest and modern upheaval. The frameworks built centuries ago still help communities navigate modernity.

Take finance: much of today’s Islamic banking rests on Ḥanafī tools such as istiḥsān (juristic preference), ḥiyal (legal stratagems), and the use of custom. Mālikī reliance on maṣlaḥa (public good) grounds policy and governance contributions. What looks like accommodation is, in truth, tradition applying timeless principles to new realities.

Nigeria’s Sahelian Inheritance

Closer to home, Nigeria’s Muslim communities have drawn heavily on this inheritance. The Sahelian empires were governed through Mālikī fiqh and Ashʿarī creed. These frameworks enabled our communities to transition into the modern Nigerian state without collapse. Resident colonial and post-colonial scholars such as Shaykh Abubakar Mahmud Gumi, drawing on Mālikī usūl, issued fatwas that justified the abolition of slavery, the acceptance of modern banking, the embrace of Western education, and participation in political, military, and democratic institutions. His rulings were not departures but faithful applications of classical principles to new circumstances.

What To Do With a Troubling Hadith

Still, an ordinary believer may encounter a hadith that feels alien or offensive. The tradition offers a compass:

1. Verify authenticity, for many reports are weak or fabricated.

2. Read it alongside the Qur’an’s universals of justice, mercy, and tawḥīd.

3. Ask which domain it addresses: creed, law, or character, each with its own thresholds.

4. Probe its context: was it aimed at a specific abuse?

5. If two sound readings remain, prefer the one that safeguards the Prophet’s dignity and the Qur’an’s objectives.

That preference is not modern softness but classical orthodoxy.

 Continuity, Not Collapse

The so-called “Hadith problem” is not an unsolved crisis but a well-worked conversation. Classical Islam built methods strong enough to filter and contextualise reports, intellectual diversity broad enough to hold multiple paradigms, and social institutions durable enough to withstand colonial dislocation. Today, as Muslim societies grapple with modern institutions, these frameworks continue to guide us.

To imagine that the hadith undermines the Qur’an is to misread the tradition. To treat hadith as above the Qur’an is equally mistaken. The truth lies in the system: Qur’an as charter, Sunnah as manual, and juristic tools as governance.

The Messenger is trustworthy. The methods used to preserve his words are reliable. Our task is not to discard them under modern doubt, nor to exalt them beyond their station, but to apply them with the seriousness that once gave our civilisations their strength.

Ibraheem A. Waziri wrote from Zaria. He can be reached via iawaziri@gmail.com.

By Suleiman Usman Yusuf

In view of the recent surge in car thefts across Kaduna State, particularly along Isa Kaita Road from the evening hours onward, it has become necessary to raise public awareness and caution all vehicle owners.

A few days ago, a brother of mine, who is a senior military officer, visited Kaduna and stopped at Corporate Plaza on Isa Kaita Road to run a few errands. Unfortunately, his car, a Pontiac Vibe, was stolen within minutes of parking it around 8:00 p.m.

Shockingly, his younger brother had experienced a similar incident some months earlier at almost the exact location (near Video Max) around 8:30 p.m., when his Toyota Corolla was stolen barely three minutes after stopping to buy shawarma.

About two months ago, I was on the same street around 9:00 p.m. and met a man whose Honda EOD had just been stolen moments before I arrived. While we were still discussing the issue, another person joined and narrated how two cars had been stolen along the same street not long before.

Sadly, this problem is not limited to Isa Kaita Road alone. Other incidents have occurred across Kaduna Metropolis. For instance, about a year ago, one of my elders had his Honda Civic stolen at Sultan Bello Mosque during Friday prayers. Around the same time, my uncle’s Toyota was also stolen at the Dan Fodio Mosque during Juma’at prayers.

A few months ago, a friend who owns a shop at Kaduna Central Market had his Honda Civic stolen from the KASUPDA Car Park. Another friend’s Toyota was taken from Barau Dikko Hospital’s parking area, despite the exit-card security system meant to prevent such occurrences.

I have personally witnessed the trauma many of these victims went through, including how their daily routines and family lives were disrupted. I have accompanied some of them to various police stations to report these incidents, yet none of the cases have yielded any feedback or results.

Please note: no matter the value or condition of your car, it can be a target. These criminals are always on the lookout, and it is important to take every possible precaution to secure your vehicle.

I am not certain how much the Kaduna State Government and relevant security agencies, including the NPF Kaduna and the Nigeria Police Force, are aware of these disturbing trends. Still, I am using this medium to draw their attention to the growing threat. I also urge His Excellency, the Governor of Kaduna State, Uba Sani, to take swift and decisive action to address this alarming situation.

It is worth noting that, in the first two incidents mentioned above, the victims received calls within 12 hours stating that some of their personal identification items (such as ID cards and national ID cards) had been found at Kwanar Dangora. This suggests that many of these stolen vehicles are quickly transported out of Kaduna shortly after the theft.

ADVICE TO CAR OWNERS 

To reduce your risk of becoming a victim, kindly consider the following preventive measures (though not exhaustive):

 1. Install a reliable car tracker if you can afford one.

 2. If not, use mechanical or pedal locks or other simple devices to reinforce your vehicle’s security.

 3. Avoid parking in dark or isolated areas, especially at night.

 4. Do not leave your car engine running while stepping out, even briefly.

 5. Even when your car is properly locked, take extra steps such as locking your steering wheel, using pedal or gear locks, and installing security alarms or tracking devices. Locking alone is often not enough.

 6. When visiting crowded public places such as mosques, markets, or hospitals, try to park in well-secured and well-lit spaces.

DISCLAIMER (PLEASE READ)

This message is not intended to cause fear or panic, but to create awareness and promote vigilance. The rate of car theft in Kaduna is alarming, and the more we discuss it openly, the better our chances are of prompting action from the authorities and encouraging citizens to be more careful.

Let us all remain alert, report suspicious movements, and look out for one another. Together, we can make our communities safer.

Stay vigilant, stay safe.

Suleiman writes from Kaduna and can be reached via suleimanusmanbac@gmail.com.

By Muhammad Abubakar

The 207th monthly seminar of the International Institute of Islamic Thought (IIIT), Nigeria Office, Kano, was held on Sunday, October 26, 2025, featuring a thought-provoking paper titled “Belief and Doubt: Understanding the Rise of Atheism among Muslim Youth in Northern Nigeria.” The paper was presented by Dr Aliyu Alhaji Rabiu of Gombe State University.

Although attendance at the seminar was modest, the session drew keen interest from both onsite participants and others who joined virtually via Zoom. 

The presentation examined the growing trend of atheism among Muslim youth in Northern Nigeria, exploring its historical roots, contemporary drivers, and the challenges it poses to Islamic identity.

The paper generated lively engagement during the question-and-answer session, where participants raised critical theological and social questions. The session chairman, Dr Ibrahim Ilyasu Adam, and other discussants commended the presenter for addressing a sensitive yet timely subject with intellectual depth and clarity.

The IIIT monthly seminar series continues to provide an important forum for reflective discussion and scholarly exchange on issues shaping Muslim thought and society.

By Kamal Alkasim

As I embark on writing about the history of our community, I am compelled to share the remarkable story of Sheikh Lawan Makama. His life’s work has had a profound impact on thousands of students, including myself, through his tireless dedication to teaching the Qur’an and founding a prestigious Islamic college.

We affectionately called him ‘Baban Makaranta’ (Father of the School) because of his unwavering presence and guidance. He would often be seen at the school, writing on the Allo (wooden slate) for students, mentoring teachers, and caring for us like a father.

When I spoke to one of my teachers and his son, Shehu Lawan Makama, about his father’s legacy, he shared a profound insight: ‘In our family tradition, every child is expected to teach in school before pursuing any business venture.’ This legacy lives on through the Ma’ahad Sheikh Lawan Makama, a renowned college for Qur’anic studies in our community, Kofar-Ruwa.

The college offers a comprehensive curriculum, with morning and afternoon sessions focused on Qur’anic studies, followed by evening classes on Hadith and Islamic theology. The quality of education in our community is a testament to the excellence of his school. Sheikh Lawan Makama’s impact extends beyond the classroom, as his commitment to community service has left an indelible mark on our society.

Sheikh Lawan Makama’s contributions to community services were multifaceted. His children would often lead Islamic events, including Ramadan prayers in various mosques. As students, we would attend school during the day and participate in community services in the evenings.

Growing up in a family that values the Qur’an, I had the privilege of attending many of these events. Sheikh Lawan Makama instilled in us strong moral values and good habits, emphasizing the importance of integrity and character. His reputation was such that if someone from his school misbehaved, the community would say, “This isn’t the habit of Sheikh Lawan Makama’s students.” His legacy is built on the principles of good character, and those who know him can attest to this.

Sheikh Lawan Makama’s family reflects his commitment to the Qur’an. All 16 of his children are Qur’an reciters, and thousands of students have memorized the Qur’an through his school. The students who lived in his house were treated like family members, receiving food, clothing, and care. One of my classmates shared that they felt no difference between themselves and Sheikh Lawan Makama’s biological children.

As someone who values documenting history, I aim to preserve Sheikh Lawan Makama’s legacy accurately, ensuring that future generations can learn from his remarkable life and contributions. May God bless him with knowledge, wisdom, and eternal peace.

Kamal Alkasim wrote from Kano, via kamalalkasim17@gmail.com.

By Uzair Adam 

Three scholars from Bayero University, Kano (BUK), have been named among the top 2% of the world’s most influential scientists in the 2025 global ranking released by Stanford University in collaboration with Elsevier.

The Daily Reality reports that the list, which draws on data from the Scopus database, recognises researchers whose work is among the most cited worldwide. 

The ranking evaluates research impact using standardised metrics, including total citations, h-index, co-authorship-adjusted index (hm-index), and a composite indicator (c-score), across 22 fields and 174 subfields.

The BUK academics featured in the 2025 ranking are Professor Abdulrazaq Garba Habib of the Department of Internal Medicine, who ranks 82nd globally in Clinical Medicine, subfield Tropical Medicine, with an h-index of 11 and an hm-index of 5.

Dr. Sunusi Marwana Maniadan from the Department of Mechanical Engineering, ranked 4,131st in Enabling and Strategic Technologies, subfield Materials, with an h-index of 14 and an hm-index of 4. 

Dr. Isah Baba Abdullahi of the Department of Mathematical Sciences, ranked 142nd in Physics & Astronomy, subfield Mathematical Physics, holding an h-index of 8 and an hm-index of 4.

The Stanford-Elsevier ranking is widely regarded as one of the most credible indicators of scientific influence, spotlighting researchers whose work is highly cited and influential in their fields.

Commenting on the achievement, BUK Vice Chancellor, Professor Haruna Musa, described the recognition as a reflection of the university’s academic growth and research excellence on the global stage. 

The inclusion of these three scholars’ positions BUK among the select Nigerian universities with multiple entries in the prestigious annual ranking.

By Ibraheem A. Waziri

(My other essay, Against The Hadith Problem, discussed how Muslim empires in the past lived on a quartet of paradigms produced through the synthesis between the Qur’an, the body of Hadith, and reason. That provoked questions regarding the future of Muslim societies and states, hence these reflections and projections into 2075.)

It is 2075, and the world I walk through feels at once strange and familiar. The glass towers still gleam, drones still hum, algorithms still rule, yet beneath the circuitry there is a slower pulse: the rhythm of old fiqh and older faith.

For all our talk half a century ago of a secular age, the present belongs to hybridity. Constitutions speak the language of the Qur’an without calling it revelation. Western democracies borrow the moral grammar of Medina without feeling conquered. The four old schools of law (Mālikī, Shāfiʿī, Ḥanafī and Ḥanbalī) and the three great theologies (Ashʿarī, Māturīdī and Atharī) are no longer museum exhibits. They are living systems quietly moderating the noise of modernity.

West Africa: The Mālikī Republics

I began this journey in Abuja. The city has doubled in size, but its heart beats in rhythm with the Mālikī canon. In the courthouse, digital panels display sections from Mukhtaṣar Khalīl beside constitutional clauses. When a judge calculates inheritance shares, the algorithm he uses is Mālikī too: transparent, fair and incorruptible.

Even non-Muslim states around the Sahel now use these formulas. Ghana’s civil code borrows Mālikī inheritance rules, while Benin’s marriage registry follows the Islamic ʿaqd nikāḥ (marital contract) model because it ensures equity and consent better than the older colonial templates.

Banking has gone moral. Nigeria’s hybrid finance sector runs on maṣlaḥa-based smart contracts, while interest systems survive only in history syllabi. The ulama sit on the Council of Moral Economies, auditing state budgets for ethical imbalance. “Sharia,” an elderly economist told me, “is not our government; it is our conscience.”

Arabia: The Neo-Atharī Technocracy

From the Sahel, I flew east to Riyadh. The skyline looks like circuitry: solar glass towers, sky bridges humming with data. The Atharī–Hanbalī paradigm still shapes law, but it is encoded now in a literal sense. Hanbalī jurists work with AI engineers who have trained “Hadith logic engines” to map rulings from canonical texts.

The constitution speaks of dual sovereignty: divine law for the moral order, human law for function. A court clerk showed me how every regulatory draft is first run through an algorithm trained on Ibn Ḥanbal and Ibn Taymiyyah, then reviewed by human jurists.

Even cinema has turned pious. Historical dramas about early scholars play in multiplexes. Young Saudis quote Ibn Ḥanbal as easily as they quote quantum code. The result is not rigidity but confidence. They see tradition not as a wall but as a coordinate system for the future.

Southeast Asia: The Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī Democracy

Jakarta feels like the world’s conscience. The call to prayer threads through a metropolis of electric trams and vertical gardens. The parliament convenes only after the Majlis al-Maqāṣid, the Council of Objectives, certifies that each bill meets four of Sharia’s six ethical aims: life, intellect, property, faith, lineage and justice.

This “maqāṣid democracy” has become the envy of the developing world. Corruption is rare because legislation itself is filtered through moral metrics. University students still memorise al-Nawawī and al-Ghazālī, but they also code in Python and quote maqāṣid theory in debates on climate law.

Shāfiʿī jurisprudence has not stifled freedom; it has disciplined it. A new civic pride glows here. Islam and democracy are no longer hyphenated; they are married.

Ankara: The Ḥanafī–Māturīdī Continuum

And then there is Turkey, the quiet custodian of the Ottoman inheritance. Its universities still teach Māturīdī theology as the bridge between revelation and rationalism. The state calls itself secular, yet its courts and social policy breathe Ḥanafī air.

In 2075, the High Directorate of Moral Logic, a successor to the old Diyanet, reviews every national reform for philosophical balance: does it protect reason (aql) and faith (īmān) equally? The framework is pure Māturīdī.

Turkey’s digital constitution, ratified in 2060, encodes “Ḥanafī modularity,” a principle allowing law to flex with circumstance. The same logic shapes its AI governance, its family law, and even its diplomacy.

From Istanbul outward, this Ḥanafī–Māturīdī ethos has spilt into Central Asia and the Indian subcontinent. Uzbekistan’s civic schools teach both Avicenna and al-Māturīdī. Pakistani fintech startups run on ḥiyal-based smart contracts. The Ottoman blend of faith and rational statecraft has found its second life in circuitry and policy code.

Europe: The Mālikī Renaissance

In Paris, I walked past a law office advertising “Islamic Equity Contracts.” Mālikī inheritance rules, once exotic, are now embedded in the French civil code for their mathematical clarity. Every December, the city hosts La Nuit des Saints, honouring figures from both faiths such as ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Jazāʾirī, Rābiʿa al-ʿAdawiyya and Francis of Assisi. The night ends with poetry readings under the Louvre’s glass dome.

Across the Channel, the United Kingdom has normalised Sharia arbitration. The Hanafi–Maturidi tradition, brought long ago by South Asian immigrants, is now part of national legal pluralism. Judges quote Abū Ḥanīfa in footnotes. Friday sermons mingle Qur’an with Shakespeare, and the term Anglo-Muslim has lost its hyphen; it has become a cultural fact.

The Global Drift Towards Muslim Norms

What surprises me most in 2075 is not conversion, though that too has surged, but imitation. The world has adopted Muslim social standards almost unconsciously.

The ʿaqd nikāḥ, once seen as a religious marriage, is now the global model for civil unions, prized for its symmetry and consent clauses. UN inheritance reforms draw on Mālikī logic for equitable estate division. Even secular citizens in Europe and East Asia now choose contracts modelled after fiqh because they feel fairer, cleaner and more human.

Reverence for saintly figures, long dismissed as superstition, has made a comeback. Shrines to al-Ghazālī, Rūmī, Ibn ʿArabī and even non-Muslim sages now form a new “pilgrim’s circuit of wisdom.” Modern psychology calls it “ancestral grounding.” We simply call it barakah.

As for conversions, some call them reversions; they grow yearly. Not by the sword of argument, but by exhaustion. People wanted meaning, proportion and discipline. They found it in Islam’s cadence: prayer as pause, zakat as fairness, fasting as freedom from appetite. In Europe, nearly one in five now identifies as Muslim or Muslim-shaped; in North America, one in ten. Many of them began not with belief but with admiration for the order that belief produced.

The Entangled Civilisation

By 2075, no state is purely Islamic or Western. The categories have dissolved.

The UN’s Council on Civilisational Ethics opens its sessions with verses from the Qur’an alongside Kantian aphorisms. Global digital charters cite ʿadl, justice, as their guiding principle. Algorithms that allocate water or distribute vaccines carry lines of fiqh-based code to ensure fairness.

The old paradigms have not conquered the world; they have simply proven indispensable. Mālikī–Ashʿarī, Shāfiʿī–Ashʿarī, Ḥanafī–Māturīdī and Ḥanbalī–Atharī each remain alive, shaping ethics, finance, law and art. Their jurists now sit on international boards beside secular philosophers, arguing about AI morality and interplanetary law. The conversation is no longer between faith and reason, but between kinds of reason.

A Closing Reflection

As I write this letter from a café in Fez, the call to prayer blends with the hum of an electric tram. A group of students nearby, Muslim, Christian and atheist, argue over a verse from the Qur’an, not as a theological claim but as a piece of political philosophy. The verse speaks of balance: “We made you a middle community.”

Perhaps that is what we have become by 2075: a middle community for a weary planet. The Western world brought machinery; Islam preserved measure. Together they built a civilisation that still argues, still hopes and still prays. The paradigms the world once thought ancient turned out to be the most modern of all.