Daniel Otera
Niger State Governor Mohammed Umar Bago has rolled out sweeping new rules for clerics, demanding that all sermons be submitted to a state panel before they can be delivered in mosques, churches, or other public spaces. The policy, announced during an interview on TVC’s Politics on Sunday programme on September 14, 2025, has already ignited a fierce debate over worship rights, security, and Nigeria’s secular promise.
Bago insisted the move is not aimed at silencing religious voices but at curbing messages capable of fuelling division.
“We cannot say because you have been given the opportunity to be a cleric, you will go out and preach the gospel that is anti-people, anti-government, and you think it’s normal,” he said, pointing to Saudi Arabia as an example where sermon vetting is used to maintain order.
The new framework demands that preachers particularly those delivering Friday sermons and Sunday homilies submit their prepared texts to a screening committee. This panel works alongside the Department of State Services (DSS), Police, Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC), and even the military to flag messages with potential to incite unrest.
The announcement builds on an earlier circular from the State’s Religious Affairs Office. On September 4, Director General Umar Farooq confirmed that every preacher must now hold a licence, obtained after filling forms and appearing before the same committee. Clerics have two months to comply or risk being banned from public preaching.
This approach is not new in northern Nigeria. After the adoption of Sharia criminal codes by twelve states in the early 2000s, regulatory boards were set up in Kano, Kaduna, Borno, and elsewhere to licence imams and pastors. Their task was to prevent inflammatory sermons and hate speech that could spark communal violence.
The roots of religious control run even deeper. During British colonial rule in Northern Nigeria, administrators deliberately restricted Christian missionary activity in Muslim-majority areas, fearing unrest. Scholars such as Andrew Barnes note that between the early 1900s and the 1930s, proselytisation among Muslims was either prohibited or tightly monitored. That colonial legacy, combined with the Sharia reforms of 1999, continues to shape today’s regulatory attitudes.
Since Nigeria’s return to civilian rule in 1999, twelve northern states including Zamfara, Kano, Kaduna, and Niger have expanded Sharia into criminal law. Sharia courts now adjudicate cases ranging from theft and adultery to blasphemy and alcohol consumption. A 2004 Human Rights Watch report warned that these courts often fell short of fair-trial standards, noting coerced confessions, limited legal representation, and harsh punishments such as amputations. Women, the report added, were disproportionately affected.
Although Sharia is meant to apply only to Muslims, the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) cautioned in 2019 that its implementation often spills over, indirectly restricting non-Muslims and reinforcing discrimination in cases involving blasphemy or public preaching.
Religion and security remain tightly bound in Nigeria’s north. The Armed Conflict Location & Event Data Project (ACLED) recorded a 21 per cent increase in attacks against Christians in 2021 compared to 2020, with incidents rising by another 25 per cent by mid-2022. These heightened levels persisted into subsequent years, signalling a sustained trend.
Nigeria’s Violent Conflicts Database similarly logged thousands of incidents between 2020 and 2024, with Niger, Kaduna, Benue, and Plateau among the hardest-hit states. Farmer–herder clashes and armed banditry frequently carry ethnic and religious undertones, deepening mistrust and fuelling reprisals.
In 2023 alone, ACLED documented over 2,000 deaths linked to herder-related violence. Christian farming communities in the Middle Belt bore the brunt, according to reports from International Christian Concern.
Meanwhile, USCIRF’s 2025 report confirmed that at least four Muslims including two clerics remain imprisoned under blasphemy laws. Such prosecutions, the Commission argues, inflame hostility and undermine freedom of belief.
Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution offers both protection and limitation. Section 38 guarantees every citizen freedom of thought, conscience, and religion, including the right to change one’s faith and practise it openly. Section 10 affirms that no government may adopt a state religion, while Section 45 allows restrictions in the interest of public order, morality, or safety.
This legal tension often plays out in courtrooms. Whenever Sharia-based provisions or state-level religious rules are challenged, judges must balance constitutional freedoms against claims of public security.
International monitors continue to warn of Nigeria’s deteriorating religious freedom. The U.S. Department of State’s 2022 International Religious Freedom Report flagged inflammatory rhetoric from pulpits as a driver of community clashes. The Religious Freedom Institute argued in 2022 that enforcement falls disproportionately on Christians, affecting education, jobs, and politics in Sharia-governed states.
Open Doors, in its 2025 World Watch List, ranked Nigeria sixth among the hardest places to live as a Christian. It reported killings, forced displacement, abductions, and sexual violence against Christian women and girls in northern communities, driving a rise in internally displaced persons.
The Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) Niger chapter voiced concern through Secretary Raphael Opawoye, saying they had not been consulted and warning the policy could infringe worship rights.
On X, formerly Twitter, reactions ranged from outrage to mockery. User @olofpatrick, whose post gained over 400 likes, called the licence rule “persecution” that would silence truth-tellers. Another, @Neuton0001, wrote: “A government that cannot regulate poverty, insecurity, or unemployment suddenly finds the courage to regulate the pulpit.”
For others, the measure is seen as misplaced priorities in a state struggling with banditry and poverty. “This is a clear attack on freedom of speech and religion,” posted @Ado_aliu10.
Nigeria’s north has long struggled to balance security concerns with the right to worship freely. Regulatory boards, blasphemy prosecutions, and moral police reflect attempts to contain tensions but often deepen mistrust between faith groups. At the same time, unchecked rhetoric has, in documented cases, fuelled deadly violence.
Governor Bago’s sermon checks therefore sit at the heart of an old paradox: how far should a government go to regulate faith in the name of peace?