By Baba Lawan
September 2025
Historical lessons from Islamic and Christian sectarian conflicts and their relevance to preserving peace in Kano society
The recent controversy sparked by Malam Lawal Triumph’s remarks in Kano, in which he rejected certain accounts of the life of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), has inflamed passions across the city. In a place where religion anchors identity, morality, and governance, theological debates rarely remain confined to books or classrooms. They spill into the streets, mosques, and political arenas—sometimes with dangerous consequences.
History, both Islamic and Christian, offers us sobering lessons: when faith divides, societies fracture. The challenge for Kano today is not whether disagreements will arise—they always do—but whether such disputes will be managed with wisdom or allowed to unleash cycles of conflict
Sectarianism and the First Fitna
Islam’s first major civil war, known as the First Fitna (656–661 CE), shows how quickly religious disputes can turn into political crises.
The turmoil began with the assassination of the third Caliph, ʿUthmān ibn ʿAffān, in 656 CE. His critics accused him of nepotism, claiming he favored his Umayyad relatives with appointments and wealth. Dissatisfaction festered across the provinces—from Egypt to Kufa—until rebels besieged his house in Medina. Despite calls from companions of the Prophet to protect him, ʿUthmān was killed while reciting the Qurʾān.
His death sent shockwaves through the Muslim community. The mantle of leadership fell to ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, the Prophet’s cousin and son-in-law, but his caliphate was immediately contested. Many, including ʿĀʾisha bint Abī Bakr (the Prophet’s widow), as well as powerful figures like Ṭalḥa and al-Zubayr, demanded justice for ʿUthmān’s killers before pledging full loyalty. This dispute culminated in the Battle of the Camel near Basra, where Muslims fought Muslims—a tragedy unthinkable only a generation after the Prophet’s death.
The divisions deepened further at the Battle of Ṣiffīn (657 CE), where ʿAlī’s forces clashed with those of Muʿāwiya ibn Abī Sufyān, the governor of Syria and a relative of ʿUthmān. Arbitration meant to resolve the conflict only worsened the split, giving rise to the Khawārij, a radical faction that denounced both sides and later assassinated ʿAlī in 661 CE.
Thus, the First Fitna was not merely a theological quarrel. It was a deadly contest for legitimacy and authority—transforming religious disagreement into political violence. The scars of that conflict gave birth to the Sunni–Shīʿa divide that endures to this day.
Lessons from Later Muslim and Christian Conflicts
The same pattern repeated across centuries. Under the Umayyad and Abbasid caliphates, rulers crushed sectarian dissent violently, seeing it as a threat to stability. In the Ottoman Empire, clashes between Sunnis and heterodox groups like the Qizilbash often erupted into open rebellion.
Christian Europe tells a similar story. The Protestant Reformation (1517 onwards) challenged papal authority, and the wars that followed—most notably the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648)—ravaged Central Europe, killing millions. What began as disputes over salvation, scripture, and church authority soon became entangled with dynastic rivalries and nationalism.
Both Islamic and Christian histories confirm the same truth: once theological disagreements are politicized, they rarely remain peaceful.
Sectarian Crisis in the Sokoto Caliphate
Even closer to home, the Sokoto Caliphate (1804–1903)—born out of Usman dan Fodio’s reformist jihad—was not immune to internal sectarian strife. As Murray Last and other historians have shown, debates over Sharīʿa enforcement, emirate authority, and Sufi brotherhood rivalries sometimes weakened unity. Such divisions created vulnerabilities that colonial powers later exploited. The lesson is clear: no Muslim society, no matter how pious its foundation, is immune from the dangers of sectarian conflict.
The Warnings for Kano
The controversy around Malam Lawal Triumph should be seen against this long historical backdrop. Theological disputes, if left unchecked, can turn into political crises that tear societies apart. For Kano, three groups bear particular responsibility:
1. The Ulama: Scholars must exercise wisdom, avoiding public confrontations that inflame ordinary believers. Debate is part of scholarship, but in a fragile society, silence or private dialogue may be more virtuous than polemics.
2. The Government: Authorities must remain neutral, ensuring that freedom of expression does not become freedom to incite violence. Their role is not to police belief but to prevent disorder.
3. The Citizens: Ordinary Kano residents must refuse to weaponize religion for political, ethnic, or personal gain. The Qurʾān warns against fitna—discord among Muslims—as a greater evil than even killing. Preserving peace is itself an act of faith.
From the assassination of Caliph ʿUthmān and the murder of Caliph ʿAlī, to the Protestant wars of Europe and the crises of the Sokoto Caliphate, history is clear: when faith divides, societies bleed.
Kano today stands at a crossroads. If religious disputes are handled with humility and restraint, the city can continue as a beacon of learning and faith. But if controversies are exploited for power or vengeance, Kano risks repeating the tragedies of the past.
The choice lies in the hands of the ulama, the government, and the people themselves: will they allow faith to divide, or will they use faith to unite?
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Opinion