Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. These words echo through history, yet they hit even harder when we witness their truth...
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. These words echo through history, yet they hit even harder when we witness their truth unfolding before our eyes. When a society allows power to overshadow fairness, or when the law becomes a tool for silencing inconvenient voices, the result is not peace—it is quiet oppression. And that quiet oppression eventually grows loud.
The case of Sheikh Abduljabbar Nasiru Kabara and the political atmosphere under Abdullahi Umar Ganduje, former Governor of Kano State, reveals a troubling intersection of religion, power, and public distrust. It is impossible to discuss justice in Kano without addressing this tension directly.
On Ganduje and the Weight of Allegations
As a citizen who has watched governance in Kano unfold with deep concern, I cannot ignore the heavy corruption allegations that have followed Ganduje for years.
From the widely discussed “dollar video” to later charges involving alleged misappropriation of billions in local government funds, the public’s trust has been shaken.
These allegations may still be under legal scrutiny, but they have undeniably influenced public perception. In such an environment, any government action—especially on matters as sensitive as religion—will inevitably be viewed with suspicion.
And suspicion is exactly what surrounds the handling of Sheikh Abduljabbar’s case.
Sheikh Abduljabbar Nasiru Kabara is not just another scholar. He is bold, unconventional, and unafraid to challenge dominant narratives within Islamic scholarship.
His teachings have made him admired by followers and criticized by rival clerics. Some accused him of blasphemy. His supporters say he was targeted for speaking uncomfortable truths, especially against religious manipulation and political corruption.
The Upper Shari’a Court in Kano eventually convicted him of blasphemy and sentenced him to death. The judgment was dramatic, decisive, and for many people, deeply unsettling.
Supporters argue that the process was politically motivated. They believe that because Abduljabbar openly criticised certain Hadith interpretations and challenged clerics who hold political influence—individuals who, in turn, maintain alliances with political leaders—he became an existential threat to those who rely on religion as a tool of power.
Some even believe Ganduje himself had an interest in neutralising a voice that consistently condemned corruption.
Now, these remain allegations, and accusations must not be confused with verified facts.
But the perception among thousands of Kano citizens is real—and perception itself shapes political reality.
Justice, Islam, and the Responsibility to Be Fair
Islam does not shy away from justice—it commands it: “Stand firmly for justice, even if it is against yourselves…” (Qur’an 4:135)
“Do not let the hatred of a people lead you to injustice.” (Qur’an 5:8)
These verses remind us that justice cannot be hijacked by emotion, politics, or revenge. Unfortunately, many observers feel that the handling of this case did not reflect those ideals. When support groups say the process was unfair, when questions about political interference go unanswered, and when a controversial scholar is sentenced to death in a polarised environment, the justice system owes the public clarity and transparency. Anything less deepens distrust.
Was This About Blasphemy—Or About Power?
To me, as Comrade Yahaya M Abdullahi, the heart of the matter is simple: A society where corruption allegations remain unresolved cannot expect its citizens to trust sensitive judgments made under the same political structure. Whether Abduljabbar is innocent or guilty of blasphemy is for scholars and legal experts to determine. But whether the process inspired confidence is something the public has every right to question. And many are questioning it.
Not because they support blasphemy.
Not because they oppose Shari’a.
But because they no longer trust political actors who appear selective in their pursuit of justice.
The same government accused of ignoring corruption appears swift and decisive only when dealing with a vocal cleric who challenged its moral authority. Such contradictions invite doubt.
The Danger of Silencing Dissent
History teaches us that silencing a critic does not silence the truth. When the state uses its power to crush voices instead of debating them, justice becomes fragile. As Mandela said, “Where there is no justice, there can be no peace.” And I say this: Injustice grows loud when silence becomes its shield.
If Abduljabbar was wrong, scholars should defeat him with knowledge—not celebrate his execution. If he was right in some of his criticisms, then silencing him will not make those truths disappear. Kano deserves better than justice entangled with politics.
My Position
As Comrade, I am not here to declare guilt or innocence. I am here to declare a principle: Any trial—especially one that ends in a death sentence—must be unquestionably fair. If political influence is even suspected, justice becomes compromised. The people of Kano deserve a justice system that is transparent, independent, and free from political shadows.
The legacy of this case will not depend only on the verdict—it will depend on whether justice was seen to have been served.
Because injustice survives only where courage refuses to rise.
Today, I raise mine.
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