By Professor Abdullahi Danladi
A few days before Ashura, I published an article titled "Ashura in Nigeria: Will the State Finally Learn Restraint?" It was not a prediction. Neither was it an attempt to provoke anxiety. It was an appeal to reason. It asked a simple question: could the Nigerian state demonstrate that strength is not measured by the force it employs but by the peace it preserves?
Today, with the Ashura commemorations behind us, the answer appears encouraging.
Across many parts of Nigeria, the processions took place without the widespread confrontations that had cast a shadow over similar commemorations in previous years. Security personnel were present in major cities such as Abuja, Kaduna and Zaria, yet their conduct was, by many accounts, restrained and professional. They observed, monitored and maintained order without allowing their presence to become the story of the day.
That development deserves recognition.
Commending restraint where it is shown is not an act of weakness. It is an encouragement to institutional maturity. If criticism is justified when force is excessive, then professionalism should also be acknowledged when it prevails.
There were also reports from Kano that, on the eve of Ashura, groups of youths attacked some mourners returning to their homes. The circumstances surrounding those incidents deserve careful investigation by the relevant authorities. Regardless of who was responsible, no citizen should face violence for participating in a lawful religious commemoration, and those responsible for any criminal acts should be held accountable under the law.
Yet even those reported incidents did not derail the commemorations. Participants persevered, the processions continued, and Ashura was observed.
The larger picture is impossible to ignore.
The guns fell silent.
The streets did not descend into chaos.
The nation did not fracture.
Public order remained intact.
The apparent authority of the state was not hijacked.
This invites an uncomfortable but necessary question.
Who lost?
Who suffered because the processions proceeded peacefully?
Who was harmed because blood was not shed?
Whose authority was weakened because citizens exercised their constitutional rights without widespread violence?
No honest answer suggests that anyone lost.
On the contrary, everyone gained.
The mourners gained the opportunity to fulfil their religious obligations with greater peace of mind. The message of Ashura was fully communicated.
Residents gained calmer streets than many had feared.
Security personnel gained public respect by demonstrating discipline rather than aggression.
The government gained credibility by showing that order can be maintained without resorting to unnecessary force.
Nigeria itself gained something even more valuable: evidence that peaceful coexistence is not a utopian dream but a practical possibility.
This should not surprise anyone willing to reflect honestly.
Violence often creates the illusion of control while actually multiplying distrust. Every unnecessary confrontation leaves behind grieving families, deepened suspicion and wounds that take years to heal. Restraint, by contrast, creates space for confidence, dialogue and respect for public institutions.
History repeatedly teaches that governments do not become stronger by creating avoidable enemies among peaceful citizens. They become stronger when citizens believe that state institutions exist to protect rights rather than suppress them.
The events of this Ashura therefore expose an important misconception.
For years, some appeared to assume that large religious processions inevitably represented a threat to public order. Yet this year's experience suggests something very different. A peaceful gathering met with measured policing remained peaceful. Professionalism invited professionalism. Calm was met with calm.
Perhaps the greatest lesson is not religious but political.
The relationship between citizens and the state need not be adversarial. It becomes adversarial only when suspicion replaces trust and coercion replaces constitutional governance.
A confident state has little reason to fear peaceful citizens. Equally, citizens who see security agencies acting impartially are more likely to cooperate with them. This is how democratic societies gradually build mutual confidence—not through intimidation, but through consistent professionalism.
None of this means that challenges have disappeared. Isolated incidents of violence, if confirmed, remind us that there remain individuals who seek to inflame tensions for their own purposes. Such conduct deserves impartial investigation and lawful accountability. The answer, however, is not collective punishment or indiscriminate force. It is the fair application of the law to those responsible for wrongdoing.
Ashura itself teaches patience under trial, steadfastness in principle and dignity in the face of hardship. Those values are not confined to those who commemorate Karbala. They also offer guidance to societies and institutions entrusted with power.
Perhaps that is the deepest lesson of this year's commemoration.
When the gun fell silent, peace spoke.
When restraint prevailed, dignity prevailed.
The sky did not fall.
Nigeria did not collapse.
No city was lost.
No authority evaporated.
Instead, a nation caught a glimpse of what becomes possible when wisdom governs power.
May this not be remembered as an exception.
May it become the standard.
For the true victory of any state is not measured by how effectively it can deploy force. It is measured by how rarely it finds any need to do so.
If this Ashura marks the beginning of a more restrained, more professional and more constitutional approach to public order, then its lessons will extend far beyond those who walked in the processions. They will belong to every Nigerian who believes that justice is stronger than fear, that restraint is stronger than provocation, and that peace secured through wisdom is more enduring than peace imposed by force.
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