Terror in the Mosques and on Christians: A Comparative Reflection on Religious Attacks in Nigeria By Bob M. Achanya
A recent investigative report titled “Terror in the Mosques: A Chronicle of Attacks on Muslim Worshippers in Nigeria,” published by PRNigeria and shared by Yushau Shuaib on social media, has reignited a critical national conversation about the true character of religious violence in Nigeria. The report chronicles several horrifying incidents where Muslim worshippers have been targeted by extremist and armed groups such as Boko Haram, ISWAP (Islamic State’s West Africa Province), and criminal bandits—often during prayers, Qurʾānic lessons, or other religious gatherings. One particularly tragic example occurred in August 2025, when over thirty worshippers were massacred during dawn (Fajr) prayers in Katsina State.
Such incidents expose a painful but undeniable reality: terrorism and violent extremism in Nigeria have claimed lives across religious divides, making victims of both Muslims and Christians alike. Contrary to the widespread global perception that these attacks are primarily aimed at Christians, evidence shows that mosques, imams, and Muslim congregations have also become recurring targets. The extremists’ motivations appear less about religion itself and more about sowing fear, chaos, and mistrust within the social fabric.
At the same time, the narrative of “Christian genocide” has dominated international discourse, particularly under the influence of American conservative voices and during the administration of former U.S. President Donald Trump. It was during his tenure that Nigeria was designated as a “Country of Particular Concern,” with threats of sanctions and even military intervention if what was termed the “slaughter of Christians” did not end. While there is no denying that Christian communities have suffered horrific attacks, the danger in this narrative lies in its partiality—it obscures the fact that Muslim communities have suffered equally devastating losses in their mosques, homes, and villages.
Indeed, as far back as 2014, the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom (USCIRF) condemned an attack on a Kano mosque that killed more than 120 Muslim worshippers—one of the deadliest terrorist assaults on a house of worship in Nigeria’s history. The lesson here is clear: the crisis should not be framed as one religion against another, but as a shared tragedy inflicted by non-state armed groups exploiting weak governance, economic despair, and social division.
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President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s administration has repeatedly reaffirmed its commitment to religious freedom and national unity. The government has publicly rejected the idea that Nigeria’s insecurity is rooted in organized persecution of any faith group. Senior lawmakers, such as Senator Ali Ndume, have also called for proactive diplomatic engagement with the United States and other Western powers to clarify Nigeria’s position—that both Christians and Muslims are victims, and that international policy responses must reflect this balanced reality.
Still, the challenge persists. Attacks on mosques, churches, and community centers continue, with incidents like the August 2025 massacre in Katsina’s Unguwan Mantau community serving as grim reminders that the violence is not discriminatory in its cruelty. Equally troubling is the persistent gap in credible data collection. Nigeria lacks a comprehensive, religion-disaggregated database of victims of terrorist attacks, which makes it difficult to design inclusive policies or deliver justice fairly. This vacuum allows external actors to impose selective narratives that further divide an already fragile nation.
To rebuild trust and ensure justice, both domestic and international stakeholders must rethink their approach. The United States, while justified in advocating for human rights and religious freedom, should adopt a more balanced framework when engaging Nigeria. It must acknowledge that both Christians and Muslims face existential threats and tailor its interventions accordingly—prioritizing intelligence cooperation, institutional reform, and humanitarian support over political posturing or military threats.
For its part, the Nigerian government must improve data collection on religious violence, strengthen protection for all places of worship, and ensure that public communication acknowledges the suffering of all victims equally. Security interventions should be intelligence-driven, community-based, and faith-neutral. There should be a national memorial and victim-support system that includes all affected religious communities—symbolizing shared grief and shared resilience.
At the heart of this crisis are ordinary Nigerians—families torn apart during dawn prayers or Sunday Mass, children left orphaned, and entire towns displaced. These victims are not statistics; they are the human face of a conflict that thrives on selective outrage. A mother killed in a mosque and a father shot in a church are both casualties of the same dysfunction—weak governance, economic inequality, and the exploitation of faith by extremists.
If Nigeria is to heal, its leaders must reject divisive narratives and build a united moral response to terror. Likewise, the international community must replace condescension with collaboration—helping Nigeria strengthen its institutions rather than defining its pain through the prism of Western geopolitics.
Ultimately, no religion holds a monopoly on suffering, and no faith should be left unprotected. The protection of churches and mosques alike is not just a constitutional duty but a moral obligation that defines the humanity of the Nigerian state. Only when both the muezzin and the church bell can sound without fear will Nigeria truly embody the pluralism and peace it so desperately seeks.
In the final analysis, the measure of Nigeria’s progress will not be in how loudly it proclaims religious tolerance, but in how safely its people—Muslims and Christians alike—can worship without terror.
Arc. Bob M. Achanya, PhD
African Centre for Asia +B Studies
