By Onwudiwe I. Onwudiwe
In the long and troubled conversation called Nigeria, symbols have never been innocent. Every gesture from the seat of power carries a whisper of history, a shadow of fear, a tremor of memory. It is in that sensitive space that the Federal Government now proposes to unveil a framework christened Nigeria National Halal Economy Strategy: A Pathway to a Trillion-Dollar Economy.
At first glance, it looks like an ordinary policy drive – a bid to harness the global Halal market that already feeds millions and attracts billions. But the title, the timing, and the theatre of its launch transform what could have been a technical announcement into a national confession of faith.
The word Halal means permissible under Islamic law. It is not a neutral adjective. It carries the full moral vocabulary of Sharia: what one may eat, how one may trade, how one may dress, how one may handle money, how one may live. In countries where Islam defines the state, Halal is naturally the economic grammar of governance. In Nigeria, it is not.
Here, the Constitution is the covenant. It commands that no level of government shall adopt any religion as state religion. It guarantees that every citizen may worship freely and trade freely without passing a purity test designed by any creed. That is the fragile peace upon which this house stands.
To unveil a national Halal economic pathway inside the Banquet Hall of the State House is therefore not a casual act. It is not merely about export diversification or moral branding. It is an announcement that blurs the delicate line between belief and policy.
This government came to power under the weight of suspicion. A Muslim–Muslim ticket was defended as an experiment in trust, not in triumphalism. Many who disagreed still prayed that the promise of fairness would be kept. Since then, however, the country has watched villages in Plateau, Benue, and Southern Kaduna burn. Churches have collapsed under bullets. Families have counted their dead in silence while justice has remained an echo.
Against that backdrop, to hear that the highest symbol of national authority will champion a Halal economy without a corresponding national strategy for the protection of persecuted faith communities is not only insensitive, it is incendiary. It tells the bereaved that their blood is less urgent than branding; that the road to prosperity is paved through one religion’s gate.
Supporters of the initiative argue that Halal is simply a global commercial language – that certification opens export doors to Muslim-majority markets, that this is about revenue not religion. Fair enough. But why then call it national? Why hold the ceremony in Aso Rock instead of a neutral trade forum? Why invest state prestige in a framework still undefined by law and unexplained to the legislature?
Words matter. Optics matter. In a multi-faith country, policy must never look like a pulpit.
No one quarrels with Muslims doing business by the ethics of their faith. Freedom of religion covers that. The real question is whether the Nigerian state now intends to adopt those ethics as the moral standard for national commerce. If it does, then access to credit, certification, and investment will slowly bend toward one line of obedience. The gate to prosperity will be policed by theology.
That is where anxiety turns constitutional. It is also where spiritual memory intrudes. The phrase Halal cannot be divorced from the wound inflicted by groups who murdered in its name. Boko Haram built its very identity on the claim that modern education and Western culture were haram. For many in the North-East, Halal was not a market category; it was the battle cry of terror. To hear it now exalted from the same podium that should guarantee equal citizenship is to reopen scars still bleeding beneath the surface.
The presidency insists on chasing a trillion-dollar dream. Nigerians would applaud any authentic path to prosperity, provided it does not mortgage the soul of the Republic. The same energy that drives the Halal agenda should drive the protection of worship centres, the rebuilding of destroyed communities, and the prosecution of those who massacre in the name of God. Economic ambition cannot stand taller than national harmony.
The administration still has an honourable escape. It can rename the programme as an Export Development Strategy for the Halal Market, clarify that participation is voluntary, and reaffirm publicly that Nigeria remains constitutionally secular. It can pair the launch with a simultaneous declaration of a National Religious Freedom and Protection Initiative. It can remind the nation that trade is for all, but conscience remains free.
Anything less will confirm the worst fears: that we are drifting from economic experimentation into moral imposition.
Nigeria’s unity has never depended on uniformity. It depends on respect. The cross and the crescent can coexist only when neither is used as a logo for state power. A government that truly seeks prosperity must first guarantee equality; otherwise, the wealth it builds will rest on resentment.
Tomorrow’s celebration, if not rethought, could plant tomorrow’s crisis. And history has already shown that when Nigeria flirts with sacred fire, the flame rarely stops at the altar.
