Religious Police in Nigeria: Order, Faith, and Fear

In Kano, a young man with a stylish haircut is forced into a chair and has his head shaved by the roadside. In Bauchi, a convoy of trucks carrying alcoholic beverages is intercepted and its multi-million Naira cargo is destroyed. In Jigawa, unmarried men and women are arrested for being in the same tricycle. These are not isolated acts of vigilantism. They are the work of the Hisbah, the state-sponsored religious police operating in a dozen northern Nigerian states that have adopted Islamic Sharia law.

To their supporters, the Hisbah are guardians of public morality, upholding divine law and ensuring the sanctity of their communities. They are seen as a necessary corrective to the perceived moral decay associated with Western influence. To their critics, they are an unconstitutional, overzealous force that infringes on fundamental human rights, harasses citizens, and operates a parallel legal system that undermines the federal police. The reality, as is often the case, is a complex blend of order, faith, and fear.

“The existence of Hisbah is a direct consequence of a state that is often too weak or too corrupt to enforce its own secular laws, creating a vacuum that religious bodies are only too willing to fill.”

The Constitutional Question

The foundation of the Hisbah is constitutionally murky. Section 214 of the Nigerian Constitution states unequivocally: “There shall be a Police Force for Nigeria, which shall be known as the Nigeria Police Force, and subject to the provisions of this section no other police force shall be established for the Federation or any part thereof.”

Hisbah proponents cleverly sidestep this. They argue that the Hisbah are not a “police force” but a “community support group” or an “agency for the enforcement of Sharia.” They claim their mandate is to “enjoin what is right and forbid what is wrong” among Muslims. Yet, their actions—making arrests, destroying private property, and enforcing dress codes—look remarkably like policing. Their operatives wear uniforms, drive branded patrol vehicles, and wield significant coercive power. This creates a de facto parallel security structure, accountable not to the federal police command, but to state governors and religious leaders.

This ambiguity is by design. It allows states to implement a key component of Sharia law while maintaining a veneer of constitutional compliance. The federal government, wary of inflaming religious tensions, has largely adopted a hands-off approach, creating legal grey zones where citizens’ rights are dangerously ill-defined. This dynamic is a microcosm of the larger power struggle between federal authority and regional interests, a central theme in Nigeria’s political landscape, which we touch upon in our article “Is Nigeria Sliding into One-Party Rule?”.

Effectiveness vs. Overreach

Supporters point to Hisbah’s successes. In states like Kano, the Hisbah command claims credit for mediating family disputes, combating drug abuse, and reducing prostitution. With an estimated 9,000 operatives in Kano alone, they have a deep community presence that the federal police, often seen as outsiders, cannot match. They resolve conflicts that might otherwise fester or require navigating a slow and corrupt formal justice system.

However, this “effectiveness” comes at a steep price. The Hisbah’s record is littered with instances of flagrant overreach and hypocrisy:

• Targeting the Poor: The public destruction of cheap, locally-brewed alcohol (burukutu) stands in stark contrast to the quiet consumption of expensive foreign spirits in the homes of the wealthy and powerful. The enforcement of morality is often a class-based performance.
• Violation of Privacy: Hisbah operatives have been known to burst into private homes and weddings on suspicion of “immoral acts.”
• Arbitrary Enforcement: Rules are applied inconsistently. A haircut deemed “un-Islamic” one day may be ignored the next, depending on the officer. This arbitrariness is a hallmark of unaccountable power.
• Extra-Legal Punishment: While their official role is to arrest and hand over suspects to Sharia courts, summary punishments, like forceful haircuts and public shaming, are common.

Perhaps most telling is the hypocrisy. In 2021, a Hisbah commander in Kano was arrested for allegedly being in a hotel room with a married woman—the very offense his organization publicly condemns. This incident crystallized the public perception that the Hisbah are not always the moral paragons they claim to be. The selective outrage and enforcement, especially on issues like the public performance of wealth in our analysis on The End of Money-Spraying in Nigeria, show a similar pattern of targeting the visible and vulnerable.

The Fear Factor and its Impact on Society

Beyond the legal debate, the pervasive presence of the Hisbah cultivates a climate of fear. For non-Muslims living in Sharia states, it is a constant, low-level source of anxiety. For liberal or secular-minded Muslims, it is a tool of social control that stifles self-expression, creativity, and critical thought. The arts suffer as musicians, artists, and writers self-censor to avoid falling foul of vaguely defined moral codes.

The economy is also affected. The consistent destruction of goods, primarily alcoholic beverages legally produced in one part of Nigeria and transported for legal consumption, represents a significant economic loss and discourages interstate commerce and investment. A 2022 destruction event in Kano saw over 3.8 million bottles of beer smashed—reportedly the largest single haul by Hisbah—leading to hundreds of millions of Naira in losses (BBC on Kano beer destruction, Feb 2022).

The existence of the Hisbah raises a fundamental question for Nigeria: Can a nation operate two parallel, and often contradictory, legal and social codes within a single federal republic? While seeking to enforce one interpretation of divine order, these religious police forces challenge the secular order promised by the constitution. They create a system where the rights of a Nigerian citizen can change dramatically simply by crossing a state line—a reality that is both unsustainable and profoundly dangerous.